Ballerinas and Barricades: The Mystery of the Cloud Castle
by StarshipRangerBoyWonder
Summary: Marius Pontmercy is a new student and l'ABC troupe member at Rue Plumet Academy of the Arts under M. Valjean's teaching, and he couldn't be happier. The teenage boy is in store for new friends, new loves, new drama, and new kinds of pain. But what happens when he and the rest of l'ABC are somehow pulled into the mysterious murder of Headmaster Lamarque? Practically all the ships
1. Chapter 1

Ballerinas and Barricades

It was a dreary, dark kind of day. The kind of day where the sun was not even visible behind the wall of clouds that barricaded the sky. The kind of day where it seemed as though the sky would pour rain upon every innocent head yet didn't until they had a large load of groceries in paper bags or an uncovered Prom dress. It was the kind of day that was humid and wet until the wind blew by and took your essay with it for a dip in a mud puddle.

In other words, today was completely opposite Marius's mood.

The excited fifteen-year-old bounced up and down in his seat, causing a horrid squeaking of his jean buttons against the material of the car seats. It must have been very annoying, because this wasn't the first time that his grandfather had turned sharply and hushed the blithering idiot his dying son had created. God bless, Marius was like a damn three-year-old sometimes.

"Marius Azeia Pontmercy!" his grandfather snapped, turning his head to glare at the boy through the rear-view mirror.

Marius's eyes shot wide in fear and he settled. The teen looked down in shame, but let his gaze go upward and watch his grandfather's eyes. When he noticed the elderly man was still glaring at him, he sat back up and cocked his head.

"What is it, grandfather?" he asked in innocence. However, with the look his grandfather gave him, he could have just murdered David Tennent.

"It's you!" said the man. "You're jumping around back there like a crab's nipping at your balls!"

"Granddad, that's disgusting…"

"It doesn't matter if it's disgusting! You're being fecking annoying!" his grandfather yelled.

Marius threw his hands up in defence. "Well, what do you want me to do?" he squealed.

"Stop! Bloody stop, you damned eejit!" the elder groaned. "Just. Stop."

"Fine…"

Five seconds later… _squeak squeak squeak…_

"God dammit, Marius, I will turn this car around right now!"

"That would be a waste of time, Granddad. All that driving for nothing."

Contrary to his grandfather's belief, Marius really wasn't a bad kid, and he definitely wasn't any dunce… Okay, so the light bulb wasn't always on up there, but he truly was a bright young lad. He had nothing but B's and A's in all his classes, regularly contributed through community service on his own will, but it was what he did in the ballroom that made Marius such a genius in reality. Marius Azeia Pontmercy was a universally known and award winning dancer and his talents lay most strongly within a waltz or a tango, but that did not limit him, and people had words to say of his expertise in ballet.

Of course, his grandfather (or entire family for that matter) did not think of this as such an accomplishment. In their eyes, every young person should know how to dance as well as Marius from age three, but that did not mean they would give the talented boy any sort of recognition. Besides, his parents were too consumed with the fact that he may be a dancer instead of a lawyer. Marius was also assured that they were betting on his coming out any day now.

Being accepted into the l'ABC Dance Troupe at Rue Plumet Academy of the Arts was the most fantastic moment of Marius's life. He remembered it like it was yesterday, even though it had actually happened about three months ago. A couple weeks after his recital with his old dance school, he had received a letter from Rue Plumet, and after he read it for the tenth time to assure he wasn't dreaming, the teen had screeched so loud that his mother's favourite wine glass broke. For a split second, Marius was afraid he wouldn't be able to go because they were spending so much money to try to reverse his father's critical condition, but he then read that he was provided with a full scholarship, which provoked another shriek of joy.

Now, today, September 1st, he was starting at the school two months late.

When they pulled up to the academy, Marius took in the humble school with affection and admiration, while his grandfather just scoffed at how simple the place was. Truth be told, it was no Buckingham Palace, but the dormitories were small houses that lined up next to each other on a cobblestone street, and the school building sat at the end in the middle of them like it was the Disney castle or something. Each dorm home was decorated depending on who was inside. Some houses had masks on the front for acting, while others had instruments or musical notes. Still, others had paintbrushes or computers or tap shoes or sowing kits.

The students walked up and down the cobblestone while some road bikes. In the middle of the campus was a large square with a fountain in the centre. It was a three way intersection, on road leading to the front gates, one to the school building, one to what looked like a performance hall, and another to the activities area. On each corner was a different building; one corner had a worn looking café called the Musain, another had a park, another had a clothing shop, and the last one had a supplies store.

When they had driven up to the school, a relaxed looking man and a young girl were standing there waiting for them. Marius stepped out and a pair of girls ran over, offering to help with bags. His grandfather asked if they were attendees and they replied that they were simply students.

"Nice to meet you, M. Pontmercy," said the man as he stuck out his hand to Marius's grandfather.

"And the same to you, Monsieur," his grandfather replied.

Marius was helping the two girls get his trunk and cargo bag from the car when a boy with chopped hair ran up and handed him a flyer. "Hey, new kid," he greeted. "We're having a concert out here tonight! You should come meet everybody."

Marius took the flyer and looked it over, a stupid grin spreading across his face. "Seems fun! Will do!" he said. "I'm Marius. Dance."

"Bjorn. Martial Arts and Show Combat," the other boy said. "Listen, I have to go hand out more flyers, but I hope to see you there tonight. And good luck!"

Just then, his grandfather came up around him and yanked the colourful flyer from his fingers. The old man read it over, the look of disgust on his face becoming more prominent with every sentence. "Come meet everybody? Be friends with the entire campus?" the man gasped. "Bleeding impossible!"

"Granddad, you must remember this school only has one hundred and fifty students," Marius muttered, taking the flyer back.

The other man cleared his throat and motioned to the girl (the others had politely gotten his dorm number and taken his trunk for him on their golf cart) at his side. She nodded and stepped forward. "I'm Éponine," she said, sticking out her hand and giving him a firm shake. "I'll be giving you the tour because M. Valjean has a class to teach."

"Alright…"

Marius turned toward his grandfather. He licked his lips nervously. "I'll be seeing you, then," he mumbled.

"Stay out of trouble," his grandfather said warmly, patting the boy on the shoulder and getting back in the car.

"Well," said Éponine awkwardly. "Let's be off, shall we? See you M. Valjean… Come, Marius…"

"How do you know my name?' he asked as they made their way up the stairs to the building.

"Everyone's been talking about you for the past two months!" she exclaimed. "We were so excited to have a new dancer added to the troupe. We thought we may have to drop out of competition this year because Cosette lost her dance partner."

"Cosette?" Marius questioned. "I'll be dancing with her, yes?"

"Yes," Éponine said. "Wow, Marius…"

"What?"

"Your eyes," she muttered.

"My eyes?" he parroted.

The girl blushed and looked down. "They're very lovely…"

"Oh, well thanks," came Marius.

The pair walked down a long spiral staircase and the mixed sounds of a dozen different songs beat against Marius's eardrum. As they walked down the hall, he noticed the hilarious combination of concert posters, recital photos, defaced inspirational quotes, candid pictures, and crayon drawings that covered the walls. It took him a second to remember that some of these kids had been there since kindergarten. An extreme case of low self-image hit him like a rock, and he became very nervous as Éponine pushed open the door that said "STUDIOS" in big letters.

"Right now only the troupe members are practicing,' Éponine explained. "We get six hours a day to practice without the other students butting in – unless me want them in."

"Six hours… That's good… Enough time for my three classes," Marius sighed in relief. He had been so nervous that he wouldn't be able to fit in the three classes he was still required to take daily.

"Yes, it is enough time. And we don't have to use our hours, they're just provided, seeing as we have more shows than the others," she said. They passed the first studio and Marius saw two men practicing step-two-threes in pairs of worn gillies. One had curly hair and a black wife beater with "JIG PRIDE" written in green cross the back, and the second teen was sporting a pair of glasses that seemed to be falling off his nose. "That's Courfeyrac and Combeferre. They're Irish step dancers."

The second studio across the hall was blaring loud hip-hop, and inside was a middle-school aged girl with hair like Éponine's in a pair of booty shorts and sneakers, and at her side was a man Marius's age in sweatpants and tennis shoes. Éponine stuck her head in and yelled over the music, "Azelma! Bahorel! I'll be back for practise when I'm done showing new guy around!"

Azelma nodded and they walked to the third studio while Éponine explained that she and her sister, Azelma, did street dance with some beefcake named Bahorel. Inside the third studio was two shirtless boys dulling knives while a girl beside them pulled her leg over her head in a scorpion stretch. Marius nervously turned to Éponine for an explanation, and she laughed.

"The one with the bandages around his arms and chest is Lesgle. Joly is the boy who keeps blowing his hair out of his eyes. Musichetta is the girl."

"And the knives…?"

"They're lyrical," she said. "Like, their dancing tells a story. Come along now."

Still confused, Marius followed. Knives in dance must be very hard to deal with. He would need to ask them trio how exactly that worked out without death and injury happening. But then, that Lesgle kid had bandages all over his body while the others looked completely untouched.

"They're gorgeous!" Marius gasped. He was looking inside a ballet studio with two males in ballet shirts and tights. They both had skinny, feminine bodies and warm smiles that made Marius gush. One of them had strawberry blond curls with flowers wove into almost each twist of hair. The second had curls as well, and a wristband that portrayed the flag of Poland. Marius wondered if he was Polish.

"He's not," Éponine muttered, gaining back his attention. "Feuilly just reeeeeally likes Poland. More than Enjolras loves France."

Marius snorted. "So Feuilly and flower child are ballet, yes?"

"You got it!" she exclaimed, punching his shoulder jokingly, but the boy grabbed it in pain. "You're smart…"

"Thank you…" He blushed. "Any more?"

"Yes! My brothers are in tap! Oh, you'll love them! They're working on a piece from The Boy from Oz!" Éponine grinned and took his arm, dragging him down a crook in the hall to another studio with four adorable little boys that practically made Marius's heart melt.

Éponine opened the door and waved to them. The boy in front, this one with dirty blond hair, pressed a remote and the music stopped. Marius recognized the piece from Newsies well. "'Ponine!" the little boy whined, the other three crossing their arms in annoyance.

"Gav!" she hissed in mock, swaggering over and messing up his long strands of hair more than they already were. The other boys pulled him back as they all wretched.

"Ew! Cooties! 'Ponine gave you cooties, Gavroche!" squealed the little boy with a baseball hat and a buzz cut Mohawk.

"I know, Marzi!' Gavroche spat. "Henri! Get me a wipe!"

The boy who looked exactly like Marzi shook his head. "Sebastian used 'em all, Gav."

Gavroche glared at the smallest child. The skinny kid looked down if he was going to cry, but Gav picked up his chin and shook his head. "Don't cry, Sebastian, y'didn't do anythin' wrong!"

Sebastian wiped his teary eyes and nodded. Éponine was giggling softly and hanging onto Marius's arm. "Yeah, so these cuties are tap," she told him. "They're some of the youngest students here."

"This school goes to…?"

"First grade to twelfth."

"Right… Well, is that all?" Marius walked out of the boys' studio as to not disrupt them further.

Éponine shook her head. "Oh, no! We still need to show you Enjolras and R, then of course you need to meet Cosette."

"Sounds like a plan!" He smiled and looked at her. "May I call you 'Ponine, too?"

She blushed brightly. "If you wish, I don't see why not."

"Great, because I like it. 'Ponine definitely suits you," he said.

"Wow…" Éponine mumbled, biting her lip and turning a shade of red to rival the highlights of Marius's hair.

Unfortunately, the girl didn't notice when she walked face first into the door of the next to last studio. A teen inside made to jump off his pole, but his partner pointed a threatening finger, and he stuck out his tongue before sprinting over and helping Éponine up because Marius was too dumbstruck to do a damn thing.

"Nice work, dumbass," the guy (who, by the way, had the most attractive mop of brown curls on his head with a pair of sleepy eyes) laughed, looking over Éponine. "What got you distracted?"

He looked up at Marius.

"Oh, so new guy hot buns…"

Marius cocked his head and sputtered a bit. "I'm sorry, what?"

"I'm just joshing you," he said. "Hey, I'm Grantaire. Just call me R."

"Right, because Grantaire is like Grand R… Gran… taire… Gran… ar… Grand… R…" Marius mumbled, getting quieter and less enthusiastic as he spoke.

"Yes, genius…"

Éponine struck him on the cheek. "Don't be rude! Marius is saving this troupe!" she squeaked.

"I know that," sighed R. "He's gonna be with the Blond Bubbles and Beauty herself."

"Galinda?" asked Marius.

The look he got was damn comical.

From behind Grantaire came a teen the same size as Marius and R, except he looked like a god with his flowing hair and chiselled features that just spoke power. R gulped and gazed at his companion, a look of admiration occupying his face. The blond stuck out his hand sharply.

"Enjolras. Pole Dancer."

Marius snorted a bit, but shook the other student's hand. Enjolras was not amused.

"Exactly what is wrong with that?" he asked, taken aback.

"No!" Marius gasped. "No! I mean… It's just… They – people – typically associate pole dancing with… you know…"

"Yeah, strippers. Lovely Ladies. We know," Enjolras snapped.

Grantaire stood and put a hesitant hand on his partner's shoulder. "Calm down, Apollo," he muttered. "He didn't mean any offense."

"He still said it."

"Yes… I know… Go back inside and work on the mount, I'll be back in a second," said R.

Enjolras pursed his lips but agreed, and he walked over to his pole. He wrapped his hands around the base and bounced a bit on his toes before jumping up and wrapping his knees around it and pulling himself up so that he was hanging upside-down with feet and hands on pole and nothing else. Marius was extremely impressed.

"I'm sorry about him," R apologised. "He's kind of an activist and doesn't like the injustice something he and many other people love, yada yada yada… I only started pole dancing because I thought it'd be funny and ironic. It's actually really fun. Plus, I get to be with Apollo all day…"

Marius raised an eyebrow. "Apollo?"

"My nickname for him," R explained.

Éponine smiled softly and took Marius's arm again. "Well, you better get in there before the sun god burns your arse."

Grantaire gave her a salute and a kiss on the cheek before running back inside his studio and jumping onto his pole.

"Are they a thing?' Marius blurted, turning a dark red.

"No," she sighed sadly. "But R wants it. He's wild over Enjolras, and of course Orestes over there is completely oblivious to anything that isn't dance or protests."

"Poor guy…" he gasped. "Unrequited love must suck…"

"I think I can relate…" Éponine murmured. "Here, you can meet –"

"Cosette…"

Cosette was the epitome of beauty. She had gorgeous blond hair that she tied back and flung over her shoulder, and the way it framed her face made those pink lips and blue eyes pop out in the best way. And her smile sent goose bumps up Marius's spine. She was bouncing around the room, practicing the Jitterbug with an invisible partner. With an unexplainable dose of courage, Marius sprinted inside and took her upheld hands, surprising the girl but not enough that she stopped dancing (only enough that she missed a beat). He spread his legs and let her slide through against the floor, then pulled her up and threw her up, catching her by the waist and expertly flipping her around his shoulders. The music stopped as they both pointed their toes back.

Panting, Marius choked out, "Hey… My name is Marius… Pontmercy…"

"And… mine's Cosette," she replied. "New guy?"

"That would be me," he answered. "Dance partner?"

"You got it, love," Cosette assured, finally letting go of his hands and fixing her hair. "So nice to meet you!"

"Likewise…"

Hot damn she was perfect. Marius didn't know a thing about her and was already hooked. Was that shallow? Probably. He would definitely have to get to know her first to avoid looking shallow. It's just… he knew that she had to be something close to perfection.

And the way she looked at him… it's like they were thinking the same thing. Éponine threw up in her mouth a little. These two perfectly gorgeous human beings were probably going to roll in the hay and make perfect strawberry blond babies that grow up to be the first president in space or cure cancer with the help of a dinosaur. And they were going to be happy and perfect unlike Éponine who was obviously very imperfect and unhappy. Plus, she had already fallen in love with Marius. Then there was the fact that Cosette was her best friend in the entire world besides R, and she thought that she looked flat out adorable with Marius. Grand…

"So, are you going to be at that concert thing tonight?" Marius asked, completely oblivious to Éponine at the door.

Cosette nodded and rested her hand on his forearm. "You mean the rally?" she said sweetly. "Yes, I plan to go. Everyone's going. All 150 students. Plus some of the students from the academy next door."

"Javert Home of Achievers, right?"

"That's what they call it, of course everyone here calls it Javert Home of Arseholes," said Cosette crossly. "That's what happened to my last partner. And Eponine's last boyfriend. Montparnasse transferred before our last competition and we had to forfeit to Javert's. Papa was so upset…"

"You're head of dance and theatre's daughter, am I right?" Marius asked.

"Yes…" Cosette grew upset. "He was my godfather before my mother died when I was eight."

Marius frowned and mentally kicked himself. "I'm sorry I brought it up…"

"It's fine," she assured, squeezing his arm. "I should go, Marius, I have to finish my homework and Papa will take off three hours if I don't get a B in ELA."

"Bye, then…" Marius sighed. He was sure he'd screwed everything up.

"See you. Save me a dance." Cosette grinned that stunning smile and leaned up, planting a kiss on his cheek that made his entire body mimic a freckled tomato. She then sashayed out of the room, hugging Éponine before leaving.

If anything was a fact, it was that Éponine and Marius were both pretty screwed.


	2. Chapter 2

"GERONIMO!"

"ALONSY!"

"HEY, ASSBUTT!"

"Everything is TV references and everything hurts," Marius gasped as he was dragged by the belt through a crowd of teenagers from ages 13 to 18.

"It gets like this," Éponine laughed, squeezing her way through a very heated debate on how Sherlock had survived the fall. "Except it bugs me ever so slightly that Sherlock fans haven't read the series?"

"Have you?" Marius asked, his eyebrows shooting up.

The girl shrugged and looked down. "Not exactly… No. But there's a lot of books!"

"And there's a lot of fans!" he said. "A fan's a fan, just as long as they're irrationally weeping over homoerotic subtext."

His friend giggled dreamily and looked at him with admiration. "We better speed up before the crowd gets too thick…"

"Yeah," Marius agreed. "Quick question… Explain this school again to me. I'm really confused."

Éponine smiled sweetly. "Of course, my Pontmercy friend," she said, still pulling him by his belt. "Well, this school has most of its students from eighth grade to twelfth. There are a few younger students, but not many. Gavroche is one of fifteen younger students. Azelma is, too, along with my other brothers. The rest of us are high school age."

"Mhmm…"

"And to get in this school you need to have a GPA higher than 80%..."

"Which I did."

"And no grade lower than 71."

"Which I didn't."

"That way, the school can squeeze your academic classes in pairs, and you can focus on your career as a performer or whatever."

Marius smiled and nodded in thanks. Éponine must have spotted the troupe, because she gave his belt a great jolt and his pants slipped halfway down his butt.

When they got over to the group… well, it was a bit of a sight. Gavroche was on Courfeyrac's shoulders, playing with the older boy's curls and retelling the story of how he caught a mouse the other day. Sebastian was cradled in Combeferre's arms, and he had been waiting for Éponine so that she could take him home with Henri and Marzi, who were both about to drop in exhaustion. Combeferre himself was looking fine and dandy in a loose button up with thick, black frames hanging on his nose. Despite his previous cuddling, he was having an animated discussion with a very cross looking Enjolras. The pole dancer looked more like a god than ever, and Grantaire had surely noticed by the way he was drooling over his dear Apollo. R was nursing a hip flask. Feuilly and Jehan were wearing flower crowns and discussing poetry while Feuilly sculpted a fan for the skinnier ballerina. Marius saw them exchange light kisses on the shoulder or the ear and noted that they just may be a thing… or just weird artists. Bahorel and Lesgle looked pretty banged up, and Joly was trying to touch up there bruises all the while nervously complaining about their health habits to Musichetta. Cosette was talking with some girls from the Drama Department.

Marius shyly approached Joly and his partners. Musichetta grinned brightly and extended a hand. "You must be Marius!" she said happily. "So nice to meet you! I'm Musichetta, and these are my boyfriends, Joly and Lesgle."

"Pleasure," he replied, shaking her hand. "I've been meaning to ask you about your dance…"

"Sure, what about?"

"Éponine has told me you do something called Lyrical?" he said, feeling like an idiot.

Musichetta giggled fondly. "Yeah, it's called Lyrical. It's sort of like ballet meets jazz."

"And the knives?"

"We like to incorporate stories," she explained.

"No longer feel like an idiot," Marius laughed. "Thank you."

"No problem!' Musichetta said sweetly. Joly turned to her and held out his hands, which was an unspoken cue for her to squirt a drop of hand sanitizer on his palms. When Joly pressed his lips to hers, he took that as a cue to make himself scarce.

"You need to go home, Gav," Courfeyrac said with a chuckle to the little boy. Éponine had already taken the other boys to their building, but left Gavroche, and the stubborn boy was refusing to leave Courfeyrac and the "big kids" to have all the fun without him.

"Why, Court? All the fun is 'ere!" the little boy was whining.

"But it's big kid fun," the curly-haired teen reasoned. "And tomorrow we can have family friendly fun."

"Everything is big kid fun!"

"I'll carry you home, how's about?' said Courfeyrac.

Gavroche brightened up at this, but he was not about to give his teenage pal the satisfaction of a smile. He crossed his arms and looked up pretentiously. "I'll make a bargain," he said sharply.

Courfeyrac snorted, "A bargain?"

"Yeah, guv! A bargain!" Gavroche put his hands in his pockets and stared Courfeyrac dead in the eye. "You 'ave to kiss 'Ponine."

Éponine, who had returned to the group just as Gavroche laid his cards on the table, looked mildly horrified. The other students laughed (spare Enjolras, who did not see the comedy and was a bit too impressed with the skill Gavroche seemed to possess for knowing what a bargain was), stopping only when Courfeyrac stood and signalled them to stop.

"May I kiss the fair lady?" he asked gallantly, bowing at Eponine's feet.

"Call me fair lady one more time and I'll snap your neck," she spat back jokingly.

The curly-haired boy grunted and stood. "Fine. May I kiss the insufferable bitch?"

Éponine grinned and flicked the other boy. She spared a fleeting glance at Marius, then nodded at Court with a look of determination. "You may."

Courfeyrac, breaker of hearts and zippers, grabbed his female counter by the waist and pulled her in, drumming his fingers along her hips before pressing his lips perfectly against hers. Eponine's eyes were wide in shock as her friends – including Marius – stood by and laughed, hollered, and cat-called. The boy ended their kiss with a flavourful click of his tongue, then pressed a small peck to Eponine's cheek.

"That what you wanted?" he asked, turning back to face Gavroche.

Bless him. The little boy seemed to have too late discovered the flaw in his plan and looked horrified. He shook his head, but leapt tiredly into Courf's arms anyway. The Irish dancer laughed softly and began carrying the little tyke home, turning to wink at Éponine.

"Holy smokes, 'Ponine!" Lesgle gasped, grabbing her arm. "Is he really as good a kisser as they say?"

"All that and more," she gasped. "No wonder there's a queue outside his bedroom door."

She turned to face Marius.

"Think you could kiss better?" she inquired flirtatiously.

"Nope."

Éponine raised an eyebrow. "I'm sorry… what?"

"I said nope. I've only kissed two girls: my mam and my great auntie." Marius shared, taking a nonchalant sip from his soda.

Bahorel laughed loudly as Éponine stalked off, shot down, while Joly simply face-palmed at Marius's obliviousness.

A band of students took to the stage on the side of the intersection. They were greeted by loud cheers. Marius had not noticed Grantaire leave, but there he was on stage, guitar in hand and the microphone probably smelling of beer. The drunken teen ran a hand through his hair that left the girls shrieking as he began to sing slowly, plucking the cords in such an eerie fashion. Marius instantly recognised the song from the Shrek soundtrack, however R's rendition of it was a lot less joyful.

"_Well I heard there was a secret cord / that David played and he pleased the Lord / but you don't really care for music, do you?_"

Of all the students there, it seemed that Enjolras was mostly captivated by this performance. And how could he not? Grantaire was singing beautiful words about people and love and David… Marius dared to believe he saw a grin plastered on the blonde's face.

"_Well it goes like this the fourth, the fifth, the minor fall and the major lift / the baffled king composing Hallelujah…. Hallelujah… Hallelujah… Hallelujah… Hallelujah…_"

"Would you dance with me?"

Marius turned and came face to face with a bright-eyed Cosette. She extended her hands, cocking her head in question. "I won't bite," she giggled.

His head spinning, he took her hands and allowed the blonde girl to mould herself against his chest, her hands letting go of his fingers and travelling up his arms and shoulders to his neck. Marius placed his hands on her back and swayed softly to the slow singing of the curly-haired pole dancer up on stage.

"I'm sorry I acted the way I did earlier," Cosette muttered in his ear. "I just don't like talking about stuff like that. It's not like you directly asked about my mother."

"It's fine," Marius assured her. "I get the same way when people ask about my father."

"Is he…?"

"Almost. Fading fast."

"I'm sor – "

"Don't worry, Cosette. We've found common ground," he whispered, cupping her cheek in his hand and letting her blonde braid beat against his fingers. "It's fine."

Their eyes locked for one heavenly minute. She leaned in slowly, and Marius's heart, threatening to burst out of his chest. He thought for sure she was going to kiss him, but at the last minute she turned her head and pecked him on the cheek. The redhead boy exhaled slowly. He turned his head so Cosette could rest hers on his shoulder, and he caught the eye of Éponine, who looked devastated.

"_… Hallelujah… Hallelujah… Hallelujah… Hallelujah!_"

The crowds roared and glasses were raised, but no cheer outdid the bright smile and large 'whoop' that emitted from Enjolras's throat. The activist's fist hit the air and his watch glinted in the light of the thousands of torches and paper lanterns scattered around the stage.

Grantaire took the microphone in his hand. The crowd instantly hushed and all attention was on R.

"It's a pleasure to play for you all," he said with a smile playing at his lips. "And I know we're all broke students, but we really need donations so we can release an album. It's been a project of ours for a while, and we're almost there. If any of you can spare a quarter or two, it makes a huge difference."

People started cheering and opening up their pockets and purses, pulling out ones, fives, and tens. The drummer hopped up from where he was sitting and sat a jar at the foot of the stage. Enjolras managed to squeeze his way up to the front where he stared at the jar in front of him. Marius saw (which was a difficult thing) him open his wallet and pull what looked like check book. The blonde filled it out to hold 200. Not that Marius was surprised. Rich boys will be rich boys.

But then Grantaire looked at Enjolras, and the happy look on the other boy's face made Enjolras so full of joy that he drew over the two with a three, stuffed the check into the jar then stalked away. R pressed his hand to his heart and tried to steady his breathing, but he turned to his band mates to mouth, "three hundred!" at them.

He took up the mic again and spoke with a choked voice, "We're gonna sing a very special song. It's the favourite song of someone I am… quite fond of…"

R pulled on his electric and began a rocking riff, causing the entire audience to begin cheering and whooping in praise. The drummer kicked in, then the bass, and soon a Beatles song was ringing out across campus.

"_You say you want a revolution / well, you know, we all wanna change the world…_"

Enjolras's face lit up and he began to sing along. Marius watched the way he and R never took their eyes off each other. It was taken a step further when the blonde had somehow migrated to the front of the stage again, and soon R's hand was on his, pulling him up. This drove the crowd wild, especially the members of the troupe, who were practically jumping out of their skin.

"Sing!" Grantaire commanded, thrusting a mic at Enjolras. The blonde denied, but soon a slow chant of "Enjolras" began, and the pole dancer was gripping the microphone tightly in his hands.

"_You say you got a real solution / well, you know, we'd all like to see the plan_," Enjolras sang nervously, despite the fact that his voice was gorgeous.

R smiled and sang, "_You ask me for a contribution / well, you know, we're all doing what we can!_"

"_But if you want money for people with minds that hate_," they belted out together, "_Then all I can tell you is brother you'll have to wait! Don't you know it's gonna be – _"

"Everyone!"

"_Alright!_"

"Beautiful!"

"_Alright!_"

"_Alright!_"

"_Alright!_"

"_Yeah!_"

Three hours later, Enjolras was bringing Grantaire tea for his sore throat, Jehan was braiding the girls' hair, and Bossuet was waiting patiently for Joly to pick the splinter out of his thumb. Cosette had her body leaned against Marius's, and she was entertaining herself by playing with the golden ring on his finger. Éponine watched jealously, but Courfeyrac soothed her by rubbing her back.

"You left out the final lines," Enjolras mumbled to R as his dancing partner drank from the coffee cup. "The one about Mao Zedong and changing the constitution. It's my favourite part."

Grantaire spoke, and his voice was raspy, but he spoke, "I felt that wasn't too relevant for an audience of high schoolers."

"What's that supposed to mean?" the blonde asked, looking taken aback.

"It means that it isn't relevant anymore," Grantaire explained lazily.

"The meaning is!"

"What meaning?"

"The meaning that ideas of power aren't going to do anything to help the world!"

"Nope, I don't think so."

When Enjolras seemed to be at the brink of hitting boiling point, R's band mates ran up excitedly. The bassist, a girl who kept her brown hair up in a braid, sat beside him and thrust the money jar into his hands. It was over flowing with bills and coins, but in the middle of the green and silver was a red check with Enjolras's neat handwriting scrawled upon it. Grantaire reached inside and pulled it out, looking at his dance partner beside him.

"We can't accept this," he said, voice somehow both breaking and staying strong at the same time (like Spock in Into the Darkness).

R's drummer, a skinny kid with a buzz cut, leaped forward in protest. "What do you mean? That check brings us to a four thousand dollars in all our savings!"

"He's right, Grantaire. I made it out to you," Enjolras said.

"Why?"

"Why what?" he growled, becoming aggravated. "It's a favour. Take the check!"

"Why would you write out this big a check?" Grantaire asked. "Why not just slip a twenty in?"

"Because three hundred is more," Enjolras hissed. "Your band works hard and deserves this. It's not all about you, R! Make your damn album!"

Grumbling, Grantaire angrily stuffed the check back in the jar and threw it into the bassist's hands. He grabbed his guitar case and stomped over to his motorcycle, Enjolras following slowly. Marius watched nervously as Enjolras grabbed the handle bar to stop the other boy. The other members of the troupe, plus R's band, plugged their ears or tried to busy themselves with other things as the arguing teens' voices got higher and higher.

It had to be and hour before the angry screech of tire against asphalt beat against their eardrums and the blonde dancer had stormed back over to their circle.

"Give me the key," he demanded from Combeferre, who threw his arms up in defence.

"I haven't got it, man," he muttered. "Where's yours?"

"Courfeyrac borrowed it," Enjolras snapped. "Where's yours?"

"In my binder back home," Combeferre said.

"Who has one?" the blonde yelled, eyeing everyone as if they were pigs and he was deciding which one he would slaughter first.

Marius shyly lifted his hand. He would be the fifth boy in their house and had received his key two days ago in the mail. Joly gulped and cowered into Musichetta's arms as the fuming pole dancer made his way up to the redhead and exposed his palm impatiently.

"I'll go with you," whispered Marius.

"You'll do what?" he asked.

"I'll go with you. I'm getting tired."

Enjolras allowed himself to look the slightest bit confused as Marius bid his new friends goodbye and began to walk down the pavement towards their lodgings. The blonde picked up on what was happening and wordlessly followed. The two boys walked in silence for what felt like an eternity, only really interacting when Enjolras pushed Marius in the proper direction.

Although, Enjolras's aggravated mutterings turned into clear words, "I hate him so much."

"Grantaire," Marius stated without thinking.

"Yeah," the other breathed. "Yeah, him."

"Why?"

"Because he doesn't care."

"About you?"

"About anything!"

"He seems to care about his band…"

"Didn't you see what he pulled back there? Since they formed their little group they've been saving up salaries and allowance to make an album. I gave a generous amount and he gets angry every time."

"Every time?"

"Any time I give a bit over fifty to his band he gets angry. I have money to give and I give it."

"You do give a lot, though. A bit more than a charity."

"I'm giving so he gets somewh – "

Enjolras's breathed hitched and his eyes locked on something in the distance. Marius followed his gaze and began blushing generously. There, in the light of a street lamp, was Grantaire. He was leaning idly against his bike with his arms snaked around some girl's waist. With each kiss the couple made, Enjolras seemed to become even more angry. It seemed to become too much for the blonde when R picked the girl up and carried her into his house. Breathing heavy, Enjolras ran up to their home besides R's. Marius caught and forked over the key as quickly as he could because Enjolras looked like he would rip off an arm.

They opened the door and Enjolras stormed off in to his room, leaving the key in the hole. Marius stepped inside and took back his key. The house was nice looking and definitely lived in. There was a small kitchen, a living area, a bathroom, then two bedrooms. He stepped inside the one opposite the one Enjolras had gone into and saw his things beside the single bed shoved awkwardly in the corner. He sat down and let his mind clear. Marius wasn't adjusting to any of this, but god knows he needed to hurry that process up.


	3. Chapter 3

The days went by slowly after the concert. Enjolras and Grantaire made up… in a way. There was a horrid argument which ended with Enjolras angrily screaming, "The only upside was knowing you were finally doing _something _on your kitchen table – even if it wasn't your homework!" and everyone having to excuse themselves because they probably wouldn't be able to hold in their laughter much longer.

Then, Combeferre and Éponine were acting way closer. Soon, it seemed like the little Thénardier boys were playing parent trap on their older friends. The boys' efforts were every type of hilarious. They did everything from setting nightlights between them when they had lunch together to closing doors on them. Although, it seemed that Eponine was denying Ferre's advances for someone else… According to Grantaire, the only person she had confided in, he wasn't going to tell a soul, which made curious Bahorel so angry he had to up and leave.

And then there was Lesgle and Joly, who looked absolutely horrible as of late. Musichetta inquired them as to why they appeared to not have slept in a week, and both boys turned to glare and Grantaire and Courfeyrac. Apparently, they were used to Courfeyrac's almost nightly sexual adventures, but when Grantaire was beginning to add health to his own habit, they detailed that it seemed there were contests between the two to see who could create the most noise. Upon learning these facts, Marius blushed crimson, Cosette became pink, Eponine became very distant, and Enjolras was red-faced and steaming from the ears.

But today was the beginning of Marius's second week at the school. Today marked the second Monday as a member of the troupe. Today was the first Monday that Marius enjoyed since he was a little boy. It was like any other day, and at the same time it wasn't. He woke up at eight am, brushed his teeth besides Bahorel, debated with Enjolras while making his Lucky Charms, read the paper over Combeferre's shoulder, then walked to World Lessons with Jehan.

After his four lessons and lunch, he, Feuilly, and Courfeyrac all walked together to the dance studio. They were discussing when the weather would chill enough for them to be able to play sports on the field without swimming in their own sweat. Feuilly, who took join in making fans for hobby, laughed at the question as he waved one of his creations in the air to keep himself cool. Marius was green with envy just because the ballerina had a flowery paper fan in his hands, but he was already exhausted and he hadn't even began dancing yet. Plus, he looked disgusting when he sweated. As did most people.

Except his Cosette. He'd taken that as a habit, calling her 'his'. It felt oddly right. Okay, it didn't. It made him feel like a jerk, but he wanted to be… you know… seeing her? He'd never had a girlfriend before. Cosette made his head swim and eyes flutter. Ever since they started dancing together, he began messing up moves and tripping over his feet like a klutz. Although, he didn't really know if they were accidents anymore or just his subconscious wanting Cosette to lead him through the steps again or wrap a bandage around a twisted ankle.

"There he is! How's your knee?"

Cosette… Her arms were around her and her face platonically nuzzled in his ear.

"F-F-Fine…" he squeaked, blood rising all over his body until he looked like a freckled tomato. Courfeyrac wolf whistled and trotted off into his studio, pulling ghillies over his tights as he went.

"Is it still swollen?" Cosette asked, getting down on her knees and making Marius turn rigid for a second. Her fingers pressed against the brace. "Doesn't feel swollen…"

She was up again and sashaying towards their studio, light on her feet and giggling happily. Her braid beat against her back and Marius lusted over the idea of pulling out the strands so he could run his hands through it. He yearned to tell her just how amazing she was. How she was an amazing cook, dancer, comic, actress, singer, artist… The words wanted to come out, but they wouldn't. Only a week of knowing her and he was head over heels.

And only a few steps and he was walking into Eponine.

Eponine.

Eponine looked at him like he was a golden ray of sunshine on a rainy day, a cupcake in a batch of muffins, a fluffy fan fic among the angst, the last strip of bacon… She gazed at him with wide eyes and a goofy smile. Every chance she got, she made time for him. Whenever Courfeyrac brought up the subject of his latest dish, she immediately questioned his experience in the field. Marius smiled, knowing how good a friend she is. And to think about all the hints she drops about him to Cosette. What a wonderful wingman.

"Hey, Marius…" she murmured, blushing.

"Hi, 'Ponine," he replied. "Did you talk to Cosette?"

She frowned. "Yes…"

"Thanks! You're a real pal!"

Before the girl could speak another word, he was up and running into the studio, leaving Eponine. But, he lost his shoe in the hall.

"Cosette," he called out to her, "I lost my shoe. Let me grab it."

He walked back into the hall to retrieve his shoe, but it was no Cinderella scene that met him. His heart shattered as he saw Eponine cradled in Grantaire's arm. The pole dancer was rubbing her back and speaking soft words to her as she cried into his shoulder. Marius's brain screamed out for him to rush to her side, but instead he cowered behind the corner and watched. Watched and listened.

"I know, sweetheart," R cooed, stringing her hair between his fingers. "I know it hurts. Trust me, I know most of all…"

"I don't even know how I got myself into this situation!" Eponine sobbed, letting the boy kiss her cheek and hold her tightly.

"Me either," said R. "When I first met… No, this is about you. Let it out."

"It's like he doesn't even notice!"

Just then, Marius noticed something on the other side of the hall. A something that looked like two cunning eyes and a head of curly hair. A something that was actually a someone named Courfeyrac. And that someone was glaring at Marius. Not even kidding – Courfeyrac was glaring like Marius had killed his first born son, but he was just confused beyond belief.

Eponine dried her tears and Grantaire helped her up, holding her for a few more seconds. Courfeyrac mouthed… vacuum (author's note: stand in front of a mirror and mouth vacuum)? Marius grabbed his shoe and ran for his studio, slamming into Cosette and landing on top of her, straddling her waist.

It was just then that her father, the dance instructor Jean Valjean, decided to walk in with Professor Javert and his favourite students. Really. Just his luck.

Valjean cleared his throat while the students "oohed" behind him and Javert smirked. "Cosette," Jean said, crossing his arms, "exactly what is happening here?"

His brain didn't want to work. He just rolled off of Cosette and sat on the floor beside her. She, on the other hand, had a much better grasp on the situation. She straightened her tights and stood up, walking over to her father and kissing him on the cheek.

"Oh, Papa," she said softly, putting her arms affectionately around his neck. "Marius just tripped and fell."

Valjean looked at Marius, then at his daughter, and seemed to believe what she had to say. "I wouldn't have been upset if something did happen, dear," he told her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "You're a smart girl. But you're also and honest girl, and if you say nothing happened. Nothing happened."

"Wow, Valjean," scoffed Javert. "If we used your tactics then the world would be an ugly place."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Imagine someone robbed a bank, but they say they didn't do it. 'Oh, but they're an honest person!' Should we just let them off the hook?" the other man snarled.

Valjean softly pushed Cosette away, and she fell into Marius's (who was now standing) arms. He held her protectively, and Javert's students' wiggled their eyebrows.

"See here, Javert – "

"Valjean, let's go to your office. This is an adult conversation."

Jean huffed and nodded farewell to his daughter. He shoved the studio door open and stormed through the halls, his feet making such a racket that the rest of the troupe left their studios to see what was up. Soon, the entire building (spare Javert and Valjean) was inside the ballroom studio. Courfeyrac was still glaring at Marius and Eponine's face was tear stained. Bahorel was fuming.

"Hey!" he barked, stepping toward the Javert students. "Montparnasse! What you doin' here?"

Montparnasse made a whistling noise and nodded his head towards a scruffy looking Hulk. The teen growled in response. "Gueulemer! Take care of the brute!" he ordered.

Gueulemer stepped forward and threw a punch at Bahorel, who grabbed his fist before it met his throat and twisted the arm back. The Javert boy squealed and looked Montparnasse dead in the eye as he fell to the ground with his shoulder popping out and his wrist square between his blades. Montparnasse was emotionless.

"Bloody hell…" Gueulemer gasped, struggling to put his arm back to normal.

"Shut up," said Bahorel. "Montparnasse, what are you doing here?"

The teen grinned a toothy smile and walked toward Cosette. She cowered a bit into Marius's arms, but also looked at her adversary square. He reached out, grabbing her round the waist and pulling her flush against him. "I was feeling home sick!" he guffawed, laying a sloppy kiss on Cosette.

She screamed and slapped him across the face. Eponine and Bahorel pulled him down, Combeferre and Courfeyrac pressing their feet against his wrists to keep him down. All hell broke loose, and soon Marius was throwing punches. Cosette turned into some sort of badass and beat the living crap out of Babet when he tried to strangle Feuilly. Jehan also beat some arse with some trained kicks to stop Courfeyrac from getting his lights punched out.

"STOP!"

The Javert boys, obviously defeated, stalled their attacks and returned to Montparnasse's side like trained dogs. He looked down on him in disgust. "Listen, we were coming over to make sure you guys are going to come to the Javert Dancer's Back to School party at the lake tomorrow night. You in?"

"Why would we want to go?" inquired Enjolras.

"Because it'll be fun," said Claquesous. "Booze, babes, and bikinis. Although, pretty boy, I wasn't sure you would find babes or bikinis satisfying."

"What you are implying is not an insult," Enjolras said.

"Whatever, princess."

Grantaire's eyes flared and he surged forward. Combeferre and Jehan grabbed him around the hips and held the angry teen back.

"A bit defensive there!" Montparnasse cackled. "I think you'll especially appreciate this Adonis in a bathing suit, huh? Just make sure you show up!"

Grantaire was practically growling, and Enjolras was blushing fire truck red. Thankfully, before anything else could happen, Valjean and Javert entered the room.

"Valjean! Valjean!" gasped Eponine, running over to their teacher. "Montparnasse got… he… to Cosette…"

"He kissed Cosette," said Feuilly, taking the blonde girl's hand. Marius tightened his arms around her and rested his chin on her shoulder. Platonically, of course. Friendship. Yay.

Jean Valjean was livid. He charged on Montparnasse and grabbed him by the arm. "You will be facing horrible punishment for what you've done," he hissed.

"Now hold on, Jean," said Javert calmly, taking Montparnasse's arm from the other man. "Shouldn't we hear Monty's part of the story?"

"Fine… If you confess your punishment will be less severe," Valjean said.

Montparnasse smirked and looked at the troupe with shady eyes. "I didn't do any such thing," he fibbed, crossing his fingers behind his back.

"Alright, kid," snarled Valjean. "Let's go to my office."

Javert held up a hand to stop him. "No, no, no, Valjean! Monty is an honest boy. If he says nothing happened then nothing happened."

"Javert…"

"Come along, boys! See you all at the party tomorrow! Valjean, be a gentleman and see us out!"

Grumbling, Valjean led them out. Marius hoped he would bring Montparnasse to justice. The freckled teen was experiencing white, hot rage. If he could, he would've killed Montparnasse for what he did. Or, he would've let Cosette have at him and held down his arms for her while she punched bruises all over his body. Make him pay through the nose for every person he'd hurt or violated like Cosette. Darling Cosette who was so brave and strong when protecting her friends, and even so after having her old partner invade her in such a horrid way. She was brave and strong. It was another thing to add to the ever growing list of reasons he was already in love with her.

Eponine took Cosette off his hands and the two of them went to go get ice cream with Courfeyrac. They had asked if Marius wanted to come, but he needed to blow off steam, and declined. Also, Courfeyrac's glaring was really getting to him. Although when he declined their invitation Courfeyrac clapped him on the shoulder and smiled.

He felt exhausted.

"I don't have to go, do I?"

The voice belonged to Musichetta. She was wrapped up in Lesgle's arms, and Joly was cupping her face in his hands, brushing her hair back and away from her face. Musichetta looked horrified, and her boys were trying desperately to calm her down.

"Hush, sweetie," Joly cooed, pressing his forehead against hers. "You don't have to do anything."

"I can't… I don't know how…"

"It's alright, my darling," he said, kissing her softly.

Lesgle reached out and tangled his hand in Joly's bangs, rubbing his thumbs off the shaved side of his head. He pressed a kiss to Musichetta's temple and rocked her in a calming way. "How about we all go back to your place, 'Chetta, and make some noodles and hot chocolate…"

"Bossuet, that's disgusting," Joly wretched.

"You eat it every time," Musichetta giggled.

"Because you won't feed me anything else," he replied sourly.

Marius smiled as Lesgle took Musichetta's hand and went with her to their golf cart outside. Joly was packing up their things when Marius walked over. He watched Joly for a second, observing.

"Is she alright?" he asked, looking at the other boy.

Joly looked up and smiled. "She's fine," he said. "Poor 'Chetta. My darling. Her sister drowned when 'Chetta was five. After that she refused to learn how to swim or go near pools, lakes, oceans… They terrify her greatly."

"She'll have to deal, Joly," Enjolras said as he walked up. "We all need to show up. Trust me, we would be saving her from later ridicule."

Joly's jaw dropped to the equator. "I could never make my sweet do that!" he gasped. "And don't ask Bossuet."

"Joly, we have to show up," the blonde said, aggravated still.

"I couldn't," Joly said.

"Well I will."

Joly was growing cross. "You can't. It makes no sense."

"If Musichetta does not appear, then Montparnasse will use it as an excuse to come over. I never said she had to swim or anything. Just be there."

Enjolras left without another word, Grantaire following like a pup. Feuilly and Jehan were touching the bruises on each other softly and exchanging kisses. Marius deduced they were a couple. An artsy couple.

"Are you a poly thing?" he asked Joly, hoping it wasn't too personal.

Joly grinned and zipped up his kitsack. "In a way. Lesgle is my best friend. Musichetta is my girlfriend, and his girlfriend. We share her."

"Do you ever argue about that?" he questioned, not believing it entirely.

"Not at all. I love them both with all my heart."

"That's so cute!"

"I'm glad you think so."

"One more question…" Marius mumbled.

"What is that?" said Joly, starting to head out the door.

"Is noodles and hot chocolate as bad as it sounds?" he asked, laughing.

Joly chuckled and nodded. "Yes. It is. But it's all Bossuet can make and I get a little too… occupied… to take to the kitchen myself."

Marius laughed and leaned against the door. "Alright, man. Say bye to them for me."

"Will do. See ya."

"Bye."

Joly left and hopped on his golf cart, getting a kiss from his two partners. They looked content and happy, arms looped together as Joly drove away. Soon, Feuilly and Jehan were leaving as well. The two artists were hand-in-hand, their fingers twisted about with flowers stuck between their curls. Feuilly kissed Jehan's short hair, biting his headband playfully. The poet laughed and nuzzled into the fan-maker's beard. The door closed behind them and Marius felt envious. He also felt tired, and decided it was about time he left.

Marius began walking down the halls. He passed each empty studio with a bit of a sad expression. Today had started so well. He had planned to start building a routine with Cosette… start flirting… maybe go out with her for a coffee. But no. Those Javert kids really were arses.

He then passed a studio that wasn't empty. The door was wide open to let in air, so every single word was heard. It was the pole dancing studio. Five poles were in the room, reaching from the ceiling to the floor. Beneath them were mats, and each mat was decorated for whoever used that pole. One pole was used by a girl who wasn't in the troupe and she'd decorated it with flowers. The other two were plain. Enjolras's mat was black with his name in red and paint splatters in blue and white. Grantaire's, however, was a personal painting of Pylades and Orestes.

Grantaire was leaning against the mirrors, playing on his phone and talking to Enjolras, who was tiredly flipping about his pole.

"You're going to hurt yourself," R said.

"I need to perfect this!" Enjolras panted, spinning upside down.

"So do I, but after what happened with Javert's kids we both need a rest," Grantaire replied. The cynic turned off his phone and shoved it in his pocket. "Come on. Get down."

"No! R, if you were smart you'd be up here, too!"

"If you were smart you'd be down here."

Enjolras made an exasperated groan as he began to do a very difficult move. Grantaire wasn't watching. "I'll be fi – OW!"

Enjolras had fallen. He had fallen and landed on his arm. There was a loud snap that made both Grantaire and Marius wince. But Enjolras looked like… well… he looked like he was refusing to feel pain. His eyes were scrunched up and he was biting his lip while he cradled his broken wrist in his hand. Grantaire gasped and ran over, sitting on his knees in front of him.

"Oh, no," he gasped, picking up Enjolras's chin with hesitant fingers.

Enjolras hissed and turned away, blood starting to soak into the saliva covering the teeth biting his lower lip. His wrist was bent out of shape and bruising already. Grantaire grabbed his shoulders and positioned him with his back against his pole and feet out straight.

"It hurts, I know," he murmured, rubbing the other's neck softly. "Do you… wanna cry?"

The blond boy shook his head and turned his face down. A tear must've slipped or something, because he attempted to wipe his face on his shoulder. R frowned and brought the other's face back up to meet his. The curly-haired dancer smiled softly and began rubbing Enjolras's neck soothingly.

"Hey…" he whispered, smiling. "It's okay… It's alright. It's just me… It's just me… Do you want to cry?"

Enjolras nodded furiously. He hiccupped out a sob and tears began to stream down his face. It was very strange for Marius to see such a strong being reduce to body-shaking sobs. Not like it was his fault. His injury looked painful, and R had taken notice. Marius watched him leave the other for a split second to retrieve his shirt and wrap it around Enjolras's shoulder like a sling.

"Calm down, Apollo," he mumbled, helping the crying man off his feet. "We're gonna hop on my bike and take you down to the infirmary."

Enjolras nodded and let Grantaire dry his tears then embrace him softly. Still sniffing a bit, the blond rested his head on R's shoulder and allowed himself to be led out of the studio. Marius saw Grantaire help the other onto his bike, then carefully wrapped his arms around his middle and drove down the street. Marius's stomach got that warm, fuzzy feeling, and he smiled.


	4. Chapter 4

It was half eleven at night when Marius's phone began to buzz uncontrollably on his nightstand. The freckled teen grabbed the cellular device mainly so it would stop rattling the wooden nightstand and shaking the contents of the drawers, because Bahorel had just woken up and was glaring daggers, and it made Marius very uncomfortable.

He answered the phone, "Hey?"

Bahorel shot him another look, and Marius bolted out of the room. He had missed what the person on the other line had said, so he panted, "Come again?" into the receiver.

"Marius, what the heck?" came a raspy voice from the other end of the call.

"Grantaire?" Marius asked, adding the number to his contacts. "What's up?"

"Are you awake?"

"I'm skydiving."

"Right, stupid question," R mumbled. "Look, I need you to do me a favour."

"At half eleven?"

"Yeah. Dude, just bear with me."

Marius sighed and leaned against the wall. "What?"

Grantaire inhaled sharply before launching into a spiel, "So Enjolras fell today and broke his wrist and I took him to the hospital. The thing is that it actually isn't just broken, and he needs to have surgery like, now or else he will have some problems."

"Oh…" Marius started walking towards Enjolras's room, already knowing where this conversation was going. "So what is wrong?"

"Hell if I know, do I have a Ph.D.?"

Marius rolled his eyes and stalked quietly into Enjolras's room, taking care not to bother Combeferre. "So do you want me to pack him a bag and bring it over?"

"Exactly," Grantaire answered. "I'm staying with him, but just get him some clothes and books…"

"Will do."

Marius got to the hospital in the quickest amount of time one could by taking a late night Marta. The lady at the front desk happily slapped a sticker on his chest and lead him down the hall. Marius didn't know what he expected. Someone like Enjolras wasn't so easily phased. Sure, he'd seen the guy cry his eyes out earlier, but he must've been in a lot of pain. After having medical attention, however, and a sterile environment to calm his nerves in, a strong person wasn't to be found crying. Right? Surgery was a scary thing, especially in a situation like this where he was barely given a few minutes to prepare himself mentally. But, come on, why would he be crying? Enjolras was way too strong to…

Cry…

"What i-i-if it isn't fine?" wailed Enjolras into Grantaire's chest, the blond latching onto him like a sloth to a tree. "Wh-What if something h-h-ha-ha-happens?"

"Shhh," R soothed the other, rubbing his hands over his shoulders and through his hair. "Calm down, Enjolras… It's going to be fine… You're going to be fine… Everything will be fine…"

"P-Promise?" Enjolras whimpered, crinkling R's shirt.

"I do," Grantaire murmured, resting Enjolras's head against his chest.

"H-How can you know?" Enjolras asked, using R's sleeve to wipe his eyes.

"Because I believe in you… You're a strong person."

"You do?" Enjolras questioned. His eyes were glossy and bright from the tears (actually they were always bright, but that's because Enjolras is fecking perfect). "You think that?"

"Yeah," Grantaire answered. "I do."

Hiding behind the doorway, Marius dared to nudge his head in the room and sneak a peek at his two class mates. It was a regular hospital room, with a bed and chairs. One was positioned by the bed, but no one sat in it. On the floor were tiny chess pieces, and the board was hanging lopsided off the mattress. Grantaire's left leg was dangling oddly and he was barely seated. It seemed as if Enjolras had yanked the dark-haired boy into his bed during a calming game of chess.

Enjolras sat up a bit, his free hand rubbing circles on the bridge of his nose. "Thank you so much for staying with me," he muttered. "If there is… _anything_… that I can do… just tell me."

Grantaire sounded as if he were about to say no, he needn't worry, but then the singer choked on his words. He let his tongue run over his lip as he thought, and Marius locked eyes with him. R looked at Marius out of the corner of his eye and raised his eyebrows in question. Marius, not seeing this, but nodding to shoo the fly on his nose, sparked something in Grantaire.

"Actually…" said Grantaire, "Enjolras, will you go on… on a date… like, on a date with… me?"

Whoa.

Marius was not expecting that.

Maybe, like, 'do my homework for a week' or something, but not date.

I mean, well damn.

"A date?" Enjolras parroted.

"Yeah," said R nervously. "A date."

"Well, R…"

"I mean, I know you like men. Not, like, like men. Not what I meant," Grantaire groaned. "Yes what I meant, actually. I mean… you… boys…"

"Yes, I do," Enjolras said, relishing in the power he received from the sudden hitching in the other boy's breath.

"I know you do," said R. "You told me yourself on January 4th, 2008, 4:15 in the afternoon outside of a Five Guys, after you told me that you screamed at the cashier while I was in the bathroom because you saw him spit in my drink. When I asked why, you said it was because I was wearing a bi-pride shirt. Then you took my shoulder and said, 'People like him are scum. I'm not just saying that because I'm gay, but because straight or not I would frown upon people who act like him. Even if I myself thought that homosexuality was wrong, I would still be disgusted at his poor treatment of other humans.' Though I said it was no big deal, and I was used to it, you bought me a Starbucks. That was a huge thing, too. You fecking hate Starbucks."

Enjolras smiled a bit and let himself sit up straight beside him, wiping off the tears that stained his cheeks. "You remember that day as well as I do," he said. "It was the first time you and I got along well enough for more than two hours."

"You know the only reason we fight is because…"

"… I need a challenge."

Grantaire blushed and scooted over so he was sitting in a proper platonic way. "Combeferre says that all the time to me."

"Same here," chuckled the blond. "Okay, so back to this date."

"You don't have to go!"

"No, I want to!"

"You do?"

"Yes! I mean… yes."

"Oh… well…"

"I mean, we're not too compatible but one date won't hurt me."

"Right…" It was obvious the last statement phased R a bit, because he began looking for a diversion. "Look! It's Marius!"

Marius took this as his chance to make his presence known. He stepped forward into the room and dropped the bag on a chair. Enjolras looked at the bag and began to choke up again, remembering that Marius had brought the bag because he _was getting surgery_. Grantaire saw and grabbed his shoulder protectively, rubbing calming circles with his thumb.

"I know you probably don't want to talk about it, but what about dance?" asked Marius, oblivious to his words.

Enjolras gasped and grabbed at his chest. "Oh, my god! I forgot all about dance! How long will I be out?"

"Only two months," said R, positioning on the bed so that he was properly sitting on it again (he had begun to slip). "It'll be fine."

"No practice for two months? I'll be two left feet by the time I get back!" he wailed, falling back on his pillow in anguish.

"Well, more like two left hands," Marius interjected. "Because, like, you're a pole dancer…"

"You shut your mouth!" R snapped, pointing a finger at Marius who threw his hands up in defence.

"Okay, I'm sorry."

"It's alright," Enjolras whimpered. "Look, we really need to strategize."

"What for?" asked Marius.

Enjolras looked at him like he was an idiot – which he was, in a sense – and went off on a spiel: "For the pool party tomorrow! We'll be mingling with the Javert troupe, and god knows that that could lead to people getting hurt. Last time we were in the same vicinity of the Javert students, Feuilly got a black eye. The protection of my troupe is the most important thing to me."

Grantaire looked at him with raised eyebrows. "Except for yourself."

Enjolras looked back at him in confusion, asking, "Exactly what do you mean by that?"

"Enjolras!" Grantaire scoffed, taking a sip from the water bottle he'd brought with him (which did not smell like water). "You never eat or sleep! You work yourself to the bone!"

"At least I work!"

"Do not start that argument again!" Grantaire shouted.

"Guys!' Marius hollered, pulling them both back in. "Keep it down!"

Enjolras nodded and sat back up. He gave R a side glance, and the dark-haired boy dismounted the bed and sat back in his chair, all in one graceful slide. The blond used his good arm to completely clear his face, then looked at his watch.

"I have about ten minutes til they wheel me in," he announced, voice cracking. "I'll be let go for the party Friday evening."

"You can't swim," Marius pointed out.

"That's a given," agreed R, taking another gulp from his water bottle.

Enjolras rolled his eyes and looked at them both before continuing, "We need to stay out of trouble. But, if Javert are to do something that we can use against them, prepare your cameras. Marius, I require of you to make sure the entire troupe has ample storage space on all devices."

"Sir, yes, sir."

"At ease," the blond joked, falling back onto his pillow. Suddenly, nurses began coming in, pulling a moving bed with them. Enjolras shivered, but choked back his worried tears. He groped around for something, and literally dove for R's hand once he felt that he was being moved. R followed him out of the room and allowed the blond boy to squeeze his hand black and blue. The nurse told them they'd have to separate, and Enjolras looked absolutely miserable about leaving R behind.

"You'll be fine!" Grantaire shouted after him. "I believe in you!"

**_Le Lake Party_**

"Marius! Poor thing! Let me put some more sunblock on your face!"

Marius grinned softly and allowed Cosette to start rubbing the SPF 30 on his nose. It was nice to feel her soft fingers on his skin. Even if it was just sunblock. She rubbed the cream over his cheekbones and his ears, then wove her hands into his hair to make sure his scalp wasn't in danger of being burnt by the autumn sun. Eyes met and cheeks blushed. Cosette's fingers slowed and simply began to weave through Marius's auburn hair.

"So is it true what Éponine said?" she asked.

Marius's eyebrows lifted smoothly in confusion. "What about?"

"About Enjolras and Grantaire!" the blonde squealed. "Is it true R asked Enjolras to go on a date with him?"

"Oh, that! Yeah, it's true," he said. "Grantaire drives him back to the hospital after the party. They go on their date when Enjolras is dismissed."

Giggling, Cosette nodded her head to the left. Marius turned his head (which, unfortunately, meant that he no longer had her fingers in his hair) to see Enjolras and Grantaire sharing a platform. The deck boat they had used for the party was littered with two foot high platforms that everyone had set blankets, radios, and even fans on. Since Enjolras still couldn't swim, R had sat by him all day. They'd argued a bit every now and again and R drank a little from his "water" bottle, but now the pair were relaxing together. Grantaire was spread out on their shared blanket, and Enjolras was laying on his side behind him. A book Enjolras had obviously been reading was discarded, and instead the blond was entertaining himself with running long fingers over the scars and bruises on Grantaire's body. Some looked like they could've come from simple mistakes, while others appeared to be the souvenir of some horrid motorcycle accident. Still, some looked like fist fight marks and a hickey was placed, in all its glory, on his right shoulder.

Marius turned back to Cosette and shrugged. "R's pretty beat up," he said nonchalantly.

"That's not what I'm talking about!" Cosette groaned. "You have a 149 IQ, Marius, how are you so naïve?"

"I'm just not very perceptive?" Marius guessed.

Cosette laughed and began to apply sunblock to his back and shoulders. Her thumbs dug into the knots in his muscles, making the teenager feel a new type of ecstasy. His cheeks turned red, and he couldn't help letting a happy moan escape his lips when Cosette ground her palm into his tense muscles.

"You're so tense," murmured the blonde innocently. She brought her hands down his sides, massaging his stomach.

"Cosette, I…"

"We really should do this more often," she said. Her hands were on his thighs now and rubbing large circles with her thumbs. "All that dancing has done a horrid job on your thighs."

Marius turned around and looked at her, smiling shyly. Cosette returned the grin. Her lashed beat softly against her cheeks, and Marius got a chance to feel them as her face became increasingly closer to his. Then her lips were on his and everything he'd been fantasizing about since he met her came true.

It was a soft, chaste kiss at first. Or as chaste as you can be with a girl's hands not-so-innocently placed on your upper thighs. Since it was Marius's first kiss he was rather nervous and hadn't the nerve to take a step further and deepen it. Besides, he was content with just pressing against her. They both smiled and knocked teeth, which made them laugh. And when they laughed Cosette took the opportunity to bite the boy's lip. Marius sighed happily and wrapped his arm around her back, suddenly feeling bad that she was wearing a bikini and his wrist was pressed dangerously against the knot keeping it on her. Teeth against teeth, tongue against tongue… the dancers were making half a scene on Cosette's platform. Cosette tasted like pink lemonade and funnel cake. Marius let the idea of eating nothing but those two things for the rest of his life because he never knew they would taste so good together.

But then she shrieked…?

Marius pulled away from her in one swift move and saw a triangle shaped item land on his knee… Triangle shaped…

He looked up and turned a shade worse than his hair. Sure, Cosette had covered them, but he'd seen enough to lock a vivid image in his mind. It was like snapchat. Marius slapped his hand over his eyes and all but threw her top back at her. Cosette simply hissed, then yanked the blanket out from under Marius, sending him toppling over the platform.

"Way to go, Marius!" Courfeyrac laughed, catcalling and whooping with the other students.

"Geez, how many times have I seen your boobs now, Cosette?" Éponine asked jokingly.

"Shut up, all of you!" Cosette giggled, trying desperately to look angry. "It isn't funny."

She was now covered in a towel, so Marius deemed it proper time to get his arse off the deck. The redhead frowned as he stood. "Cosette," he breathed, guilt weighing down his voice, "I am so sorry. Believe me, I had no intention of doing that. My wrist just dragged across it."

"I understand," she replied. "It's not like you meant to…"

"Yo! Cosette!" Montparnasse hollered, swaggering over deviously. "Nice rack!"

"Montparnasse!" Les Amis gasped.

"Leave me be!" Cosette demanded, swatting at the other boy.

"I just want to appreciate what once was mine!" He laughed maniacally and reached out his hands.

Filling to the rim with rage, Marius grabbed his arm and flipped it back. The other boy howled in pain and fell to the ground. He glared up at Marius, but didn't say a word. Instead, he stood and walked across the deck. Everyone relaxed, as it seemed he'd calmed down, but they could not have been more wrong.

After a few minutes of tense silence, another girl's scream beat against their ear drum. They all looked about for the source, but all they could see was Montparnasse standing by the edge of the deck, laughing evilly. Question arose, and no one knew what to do. Joly began looking for Musichetta, who typically knew all and told all, but he could not see her. In fact, no one knew where Musichetta was.

It seemed to dawn on Joly first. His face grew pale, his hands clammy, his muscles rigid, and eyes wide. The glass in his hand hit the ground and shattered before all of them. He was having a panic attack, it seemed, but it also appeared that for once he wasn't going to let that stop him. No, Joly threw off his shirt and ran for the edge of the deck. Joly stopped at the edge, looking into the water. Suddenly, a hand reached up, followed by a head, and a bubbly version of his name was heard. "Joly! JOLY!"

"'Chetta!" Laigle shrieked, racing over to the water as well. Joly dove into the water and appeared two seconds later. He twisted and turned, looking about, but the hand and head never arose again. The hypochondriac dove once more and everyone held their breath.

"Musichetta!" Laigle cried. "Joly!" Bahorel held the boy back, and Feuilly was speaking with him in a soft tone to try and soothe him. Jehan was hanging over the edge, looking for any sign of Joly or Musichetta. The deck grew silent, and all became scared. Laigle had reduced to tears, collapsing in Bahorel's arms; and Jehan bowed his head in a silent prayer. Enjolras was fighting and urge to knock Montparnasse out, while Grantaire and Éponine were trudging across the deck to do just that.

"Someone throw me a line!" Joly yelled, resurfacing. The dancers cheered, and Gavroche tossed a rope out for Joly to grab. In his arms, limp and almost lifeless, was Musichetta. Bossuet pulled his lovers in and Cosette sacrificed her towel for Musichetta (Marius helped her secure her top, of course).

Joly locked his hands and began pressing on the girl's chest. Beneath his breath he mumbled the lyrics to Stayin' Alive, meaning that Bahorel and Marius couldn't help but laugh a little at the boy's strange time-keeping technique. Then, he pressed his lips to hers and breathed. This continued for what felt like the longest time. Breathing and pressing, pressing and breathing… Tears streamed down eyes and Jehan continued his little prayer. Éponine and Cosette held each other, and even Montparnasse seemed to be regretting his decision that almost murdered an innocent girl. Finally Joly had to give up, and he curled into Laigle's arms. All seemed lost until Musichetta began coughing and hacking.

"'Chetta!"


	5. Chapter 5

/Grantaire goes through a lot here. I always liked the headcanon that R grew up on the border of Spain. I don't know why. Call me crazy! It just really does it for me, you know? Also, I feel like it would have impressed the heck out of Enjolras, who in my mind is not patient enough to learn anything other than English and how to count to three in Spanish. Again, call me crazy. Grantaire is also not so bitter towards his family. Mostly towards his aunt, grandmother, and aunt. You're going to see it all unfold. My Spanish may be bad, sorry! I may have slithered some Italian in there. Same with French. If you can't read Spanish, basically all it is is R getting yelled at for cursing, then asking if everything is ready for his date.

Everyone is French something.

Also sorry for taking five billion years. I'll explain everything back over Sound of Miserables

The ambulance had shown up five minutes ago. As much as her partners would have liked to follow, Joly was trying to calm down from an anxiety shock and Laigle was keeping an eye on him. Feuilly and Jehan said they would go with Musichetta so she would have company, and it would've cheered Joly up significantly if he wasn't preoccupied with soothing his shot nerves. Bahorel began stomping around the deck to find Montparnasse, literally knocking down any Javert student in his way. Not even Montparnasse's cronies, who Marius learned called themselves Patron-Minette, were trying to hold him back. Inside the boat's small kitchen, Combeferre was playing therapist to a seething Enjolras. Gavroche and his brothers were both frightened stiff _and_ impatient to go swimming again, so Courfeyrac was entertaining the boys with a game of UNO. Surrounding Marius was Eponine, Cosette, and R.

It was in this moment that Marius finally understood everybody. Like a poet, he saw them all. He didn't see them as dancers, or as the guitarist, or the artists. Everything he'd learned about them in the past weeks accumulated into the perfect biography of them all. The motherly sculptor, the Romantic poet, the brute with a soft side, the drunken artist, the scared revolutionary, the philosophical hypochondriac, the blissful klutz, the flirtatious friend of all, the sneaky and intelligent youth, the calm listener, the sweet fighter, and the organized believer. Then there was him, the dumbest smart kid in the world – naïve, love struck, and ditzy all wrapped up in the body of someone fluent in thirteen languages.

Beside him Eponine was looking at him. More like gazing. She looked confused and a bit hurt, but mostly confused. Marius could hear the thumping of her thoughts bouncing about her head. The girl whipped her head around to stare at Combeferre in the kitchen, then at Courfeyrac on the deck, and then back to Marius. Eponine thought more… then she began laughing.

"What is it?" Marius asked, chuckling himself.

"Oh, nothing too spectacular!" she giggled, falling into his arms and letting him hug her. "It's just… well, I believe I might have thought I was in love with you."

"What does that mean?" Marius said, tilting his head.

"I thought I was in love with you."

"How does that happen?"

"I don't know," she replied. "I guess you're the only one who I let in immediately… other than R and Cosette, I was never really close with anyone else. I was always with Montparnasse, it seemed. But now I'm okay, so don't worry."

"But everyone likes you very much," he pressed, confused.

Eponine shrugged and looked at her feet. "I grow up in a very strange household, Marius," she explained. "My parents were head of a brigand. They were only just arrested last year for a string of crimes I could have been charged for as well had it not been for Cosette's father."

"Huh?"

"Cosette lived with my parents as a foster daughter before Valjean came to get her," she continued. "He couldn't take me, of course, because he didn't have the right. But then he found out about my parents and rescued us. Taught us all how to dance like professionals and let me and my siblings stay with him."

"I'm sorry you went through all that," Marius apologised.

"Don't be," she sighed. "Not your fault… Basically, I was never really someone to trust others after that. Just Cosette. I love Cosette. She's like a sister. I treated her like scum for years but… she never held that against me."

"Uh huh…"

"I saw the way you looked at her and felt the first pang of jealousy I'd felt towards her in years. Or maybe…. maybe the first time I actually noticed I was jealous…. Marius, I don't know what it was. I saw the way you looked at her, I suppose, and thought, 'that's what I want… I want love.'"

Marius felt ashamed and stupid for never noticing. His cheeks burned and a boiling hatred swirled around in his stomach. He wanted to hunt down these people who made Eponine so distant and reserved as she described herself, and he wanted to find someone to love her. No, he wanted her to love herself, and attract someone who would only boost her higher. Someone who would not only support her, but let himself be supported.

"R started coming here when he was in the eighth grade," continued Eponine. "He and Bahorel. Bahorel wasn't very friendly, though, when he came. He was dealing with behavioural disorders and anger issues. I remember how Azelma wouldn't come to dance for weeks because 'Rel would have a tantrum every time he messed up a move or couldn't get something."

Marius looked over at Bahorel, who had either beaten the crap out of Montparnasse or simply given up on doing so, and saw he was bringing Joly tea, stirring the drink with a tiny spoon held in thick, dark fingers.

"I get he's a tough guy, but I don't see temper tantrum," Marius murmured.

EPonine giggled sadly, "I'm proud of him for getting so calm…"

"You know a lot about everyone."

"Only Cosette and I were here to see everyone come and go. The company, as you know, are the only students who are here at this school mainly for dance. Any other dancers use it as an extracurricular…. Anyway, Enjolras, Combeferre, and Courfeyrac all came from wealthy homes and all came here together in the sixth grade. Best friends for life, I tell you. Knew everything there was to know about each other. Enjolras had actually began doing Irish with them, but started pole dancing after two months. Sometimes, when he does political rallies, he climbs up the flag pole and hangs upside down so people will notice him."

Into the kitchen his eyes wandered, peering at the blond Adonis currently shuffling a deck of cards. Marius had heard through the grape vine that he was very… revolutionary… That he held rallies and protests and had been arrested at least ten times already.

"Feuilly and Jehan were made for each other," Eponine told him, smiling softly. "Jehan saw him busking outside of campus one day, trying to earn a few. Feuilly had never been to Wales before, yet he knew everything about it. He's so smart… Never went to school until now. Taught himself to read and write. No mum or dad, no sister or brother… no nothing…"

"How'd he meet Jehan?" Pontmercy asked.

"Right… Jehan saw him busking and asked him what he was doing out of school. Feuilly said he was raising money to come to the school, and had already spent most of his money on the air fare from Paris. Turns out the two of them grew up next door to each other. Jehan spoke with the Headmaster and Vajlean and got Feuilly into the school."

"It was probably no surprise when they started dating, huh?"

She laughed a sad laugh. "Joly and Bossuet just appeared one day. Nothing special about them until they became thick as thieves on the spot. Musichetta came over from Italy and joined their threesome…"

"Literally," Marius interjected, snorting at his own joke. Eponine laughed too. "Marius… there's nothing special about us. You look at us like we're Jesus's disciples in the flesh. We're just a band of dancers with pasts who all came to the same place…" She breathed. "Marius… I don't love you, I don't think."

Marius grinned and kissed her head. "Promise you'll tell me if something is up?"

"Pinky toe promise!" Eponine squealed, kicking her leg up in the air.

"And… And don't think things will be all awkward now," he added.

"I sure hope not," she agreed, looking up at him. "That'd be horrible. Like a really bad sitcom."

"A really bad sitcom," agreed Grantaire, adding himself to the conversation. "Of course, I'd watch it because I watch anything that sucks."

"Innuendo alert," Eponine interjected casually. Her sweet laughter died down and her face once again became sad. "I feel horrible laughing and smiling while Musichetta is hurt."

"She wouldn't want that, 'Ponine," said Cosette sweetly. "You know how much Musichetta hates it when people worry too much about her."

"Too much?" gasped Eponine. "How much is too much for drowning?"

"Almost drowning," corrected Marius.

"_OOPS I DID IT AGAIN… I MESSED WITH YOUR HEART…_"

The three looked over slowly at Grantaire with confused faces. He was struggling with the cracked screen on his phone and couldn't press the receive call button, so the iconic Britney Spears song blasted through the deck at maximum volume. On the bright side, it did bring a small smile and a few chuckles to everyone in hearing distance. Even Combeferre poked his head out of the kitchen to raise his eyebrows teasingly at the pole dancer with the broken phone.

When he finally answered the call, Grantaire threw his arms up in the air in celebration and let out a screech of, "Je suis sur le cul de ma bouteille!"

"_FRÉDÉRIC MIGUEL NÚÑEZ-GRANTAIRE_!"

"Oh fu – "

"Frédéric! ¡No hablas así!" a woman, one who sounded well aged yet stern, shouted at him from the other end. "¡Si tu mamá oyó!"

"Mamá no le gustaría, abuela," Grantaire replied, turning red in the ears. He had to hold the speaker far away from his face to keep from having his ear drums blasted out. "¿Me puede comunicar con Tía Lily?"

"Esperas, Frédéric," his grandmother replied. She yelled something away from the receiver, and loud footsteps were heard through the phone. Whoever got on next, they didn't know. Except Marius, who spoke Spanish, but not as fast as Grantaire did. Also, whoever was on the other line was incredibly quieter than R's grandmother. They could only hear Grantaire's side of the conversation…

"Muy bien, grazie, Tía Lily, ¿y tú?"

"Bien…"

"No."

"No."

"No…"

"Si."

"Si."

"¿Todo está listo?"

"Bein."

"Bein."

"¿Me puede comunicar con padre?"

"No? ¿Donde es él?"

"¿Y mama?"

"Déjame hablar con ella."

"Mummy! Comment allez-vous?"

"Oh, you want to practise your English?"

"Okay. How are you?"

"Great. Is everything ready at the library?"

"I'm bringing him when his cast is off completely."

"Tell Abuela I miss her. And Tía. And Carolina."

"No, not dad."

"Yeah, okay, whatev- love you, too… Okay, bye."

Grantaire hung up the phone and smiled like a three year old. Marius's jaw was currently hitting the floor at how easy it was for Grantaire to switch between languages. Same went for Enjolras, who had left the kitchen and was staring at R like he'd just rescued a baby puppy or some other adorable heroic act. No one else was in awe.

"My God, man, how many languages do you speak?" Enjolras gasped.

R shrugged and took a swig from his flask. "Obviously French because we're all… we're all French. Has anybody noticed that we're all French-somethings?"

"Yeah!" Cosette gasped, bringing out her fingers. "Musichetta is French-Italian, Combeferre and Courfeyrac are French-Irish, Bossuet is French-Swedish, Feuilly is French but really likes Poland, Bahorel is French-Scandinavian, Marius is French-English, and Enjolras, Jehan, Eponine, Joly and I are French. Scary"

"And I'm from the Spain," Grantaire added. "So actually I speak more Catalan than French when you think about it. I learned English back in the fifth year because this school is in Wales and I needed to understand people. I learned Welsh for the fun of it. Then German, Swedish, Polish, Gaelic, Portuguese, and Mandarin."

"Why?" gasped Enjolras, his eyes bulging out in interest.

"Why not?" R answered, mocking E's excitement. "My mum is French and my dad is Spanish, and I grew up on the border. Also, Enjolras, when we go on our date I'm taking you a bit out of town so pack a bag?"

"For a date?"

"Just in case we don't get on the road early enough and need to rest."

"Where are you taking me?"

"You'll see, okay?"


	6. Chapter 6

**_The Date_**

It was well into October when Enjolras had his cast removed and was in a easily ignored brace. He still wasn't dancing, but troupe members would catch him time to time mapping out movements on the floor. Musichetta was okay now. The hospital took care of her and had her breathing properly in no time. Joly was overwhelmed with the compliments he received concerning saving her and performing CPR. Musichetta's parents asked to take her home for a week in order to just be with her after this frightening event, so Bossuet and Joly spent most of their time sulking.

But, as much as he hated to admit it, R didn't care. It was a cool Saturday, with white clouds that hid the sun just enough. The temperature was perfectly survivable to drive a couple miles on his bike. Grantaire rode over to Enjolras's dorm house, knocking on the door and practically trembling from head to toe. Combeferre opened the door, wrapped in a blue towel and dripping water on the floor. Behind him, Bahorel and Marius were also knotting towels around their wet waists. R snorted and raised an eyebrow.

"I swear, we're not having an orgy," Combeferre said nonchalantly.

"So it's naked day?"

"Nah," the other answered, leaning on the door frame and holding his toothbrush in his mouth. "Feels like it, though. See, I was in the shower, but then Enjolras kicked me out so he could take one, but he didn't even get in because he had to get something. So then Bahorel hopped in because it was on and empty, so Enjolras kicked him out. Then Marius. Then Jehan. We're all half showered and a bit pissed off."

"Did he get in the shower?" R asked, hearing the water running in the background.

"In it now. Told him he was gonna be late if he kept goofing off," Combeferre said.

"I don't mind," laughed Grantaire.

The water sound stopped and the door opened, Enjolras walking out in a cloud of steam. A tight red jumper stuck to his skin, and the jeans he wore were slipping down his waist, revealing hip bones and red briefs.

"Finally!" Bahorel groaned, shoving the blond into the living room.

"Fecking bitch," laughed Marius, kicking Enjolras in the butt and dragging his pants down, tripping him. Everyone stopped to laugh at the sight of the blond sprawled out on the floor with his pants down to his ankles.

"Ha ha," Enjolras mocked, standing up and pulling his pants up. "So funny…"

"Hey, Enjolras," said Combeferre.

"Yeah?" replied the blond, struggling to get his pants past the ankle.

"Look who's here?"

Combeferre stepped aside and revealed R, who waved awkwardly. Enjolras gasped and fell down again. "Grantaire!"

"Is everything you own red?" he asked, chuckling and blushing at Enjolras in red boxers.

"No…"

"Yes."

"Combeferre…"

"Yes."

Enjolras stood back up and jumped, his jeans slipping past his knees and back up to his waist. He shook the water from his hair and walked over to the door, grabbing a black coat and mahogany scarf on the way.

"How did it go from kill-me hot to kill-me cold?" Combeferre asked, watching the blond bundle up.

Grantaire was dressed in a thin green t-shirt and a tattered leather jacket. A green beanie around his head was the closest thing to 'bundling up' for him. Enjolras walked out the door and next to R.

"Well… bye," he said awkwardly.

"Don't forget these," chuckled Combeferre, slipping something in his coat pocket.

"What is that?"

"Condoms," he answered, collapsing with laughter when Enjolras threw them back at him in disgust.

Grantaire had wanted to use a car, but couldn't drive one and neither could Enjolras, and the blond said he didn't mind the bike, so at nine that morning they set out.

R drove through the town surrounding their school. He drove to the centre of the old square and up to an old brick building with a beautifully painted sign on the front that read "Light Reading Book Palace."

Enjolras stepped off the bike and removed the helmet, looking up at the sign. "Book palace?" he asked, looking at the sign and laughing.

"I thought of it when I was, like, five," R chuckled. "I painted the sign."

"I like it. What are we doing here?"

"This is where our date it."

"At a book store?"

"I think you'll like it."

Grantaire led Enjolras inside the "book palace" and let him look around. The shelves were built in such a way that they bent and twisted and created alcoves, the book staying in place with glass and plastic. Tiny tables littered the floor and chairs, sofas, pillows, and beanbags were everywhere. Rentable MP3 players were available for borrowing while you read with a different playlist of genres for each one. A children's learning section that resembled a barricade was in the corner, but more than just kids were huddled behind the piles of broken chairs and cracked tables. Teenagers, adults, and college students were pulling flags and muskets from the toy chest and making a silent ruckus of a revolution. They recognised many faces from school, and Grantaire wondered why Enjolras hadn't already come here at least once. Grantaire lead him to the desk where an old, Spanish woman sat, sorting book donations.

"This place is nice," the blond said. "So creative."

"Gracias," the woman mumbled, not looking up from her work.

"Abuela, esta es Enjolras. El tipo yo hablé por ti sobre," Grantaire said, once again wowing Enjolras.

"¡Oh!" she exclaimed, standing up and walking toward them. "¡La hombre guapo te gusta! Mmm, él es muy atractivo."

Grantaire blushed horribly, his entire face going red. Before he could speak, his grandmother called into the office behind her. "¡Lily! ¡Frédéric es aquí! ¡Y él trajo un hombre con él!"

A young woman walked out of the office, a stack of books in her arms. The grandmother pressed a kiss to her cheek and brought her over to see Enjolras and Grantaire. Lily extended her hand and the blond shook it.

"Mamá, he doesn't speak Spanish," she said with ease. "Sorry about her. She never learned French, and her English is not so good."

"No problem," Enjolras replied.

"Lily is my Father's sister. They grew up in Spain, and my mother grew up in France," R explained, hugging his aunt. "When they married they lived on the border, so my sister and I grew up speaking Catalan, French, and Spanish."

"Interesting," Enjolras sighed, nodding.

R turned to his aunt. "Can I have to keys to my alcove?"

"Sure," she replied, handing him a keychain with a green R hanging off of it beside a dirty key. Grantaire grabbed it in his hands and held it like a precious gem. Enjolras looked at them with confusion. The brown haired boy just laughed and took Enjolras's hand hesitantly, smiling when the blond squeezed.

They walked through the library until they reached a small door in the wall of the 'Random' section, two book shelves filled with books ranging from philosophy to graphic novel. Enjolras took a second to look at them all, smiling at the thought of a random section in a library. He both adored and despised the idea of reaching into a book shelf and getting any random book. Grantaire opened the door and grabbed Enjolras again, tugging him into the doorway. The two teens tumbled on the floor, landing on top of each other.

"Where are we?" whispered Enjolras.

"My alcove," R answered, pulling a chord and filling the room with light. Multi-coloured lights filled the walls, and fluffy carpet paired with pillows made the ground feel soft and bouncy. The walls were bookshelves, filled with all of R's favourite reads.

"It's so… awesome."

"Thanks…"

It was awkward at first, sitting in the tiny room and exchanging small conversation. Soon they ran out of things to say and simply read from the books on the wall. Enjolras discovered R's collection of sketch books, and became enthralled in the pictures that dated back to the curly-haired boy's kindergarten years. Even the simple crayon drawings were amazing, and all of them had the same 'R' scribbled in the corner above the date. The blond noticed Grantaire was reading plays, and he crawled over to him and began reciting the lines in funny voices that had R hiccupping and gasping for breath. The play books and musical scripts were ripped from the walls and performed by the two in the privacy of R's alcove.

"Cecily! I have not mentioned anything about a headache!" wailed Enjolras in a raspy tone that was supposed to be the voice of an old woman. Grantaire was holding the copy of The Importance of Being Earnest in his hands, laying on the floor, and Enjolras would have to peer over him to see it because he was – platonically – straddling his hips.

"No, dear Miss Prism, I know that," Grantaire chuckled, his voice high pitched to mimic young Cecily Cardew, "but I felt instinctively that you had a headache. Indeed I was thinking about that, and not about my German lesson, when the Rector came in."

"Screw the German lesson!" Enjolras shouted, collapsing against R in a fit of giggles. "I hated German in middle school."

"Read your line!" R gasped.

"Fine…" Enjolras sat back up and scooted up R's hips to read. "I hope, Cecily, you are not inattentive."

"Feck yeah I am."

"Oh, I am afraid I am," corrected the blond.

"What is he, afraid of contractions?"

"Don't insult Oscar Wilde."

"That is strange!" laughed Grantaire, reading from the script. "Were I fortunate enough to be Miss Prism's student I would hang upon her lips…"

"I mean that literally!"

Enjolras shoved his lips against Grantaire's. The book was pressed between their chests, along with R's folded hands. They kissed lazily for a while, laughing and snorting occasionally. Grantaire finally pulled away and shoved the book in Enjolras's face with a chuckle.

"Read your line!' he demanded, cheeks pink and chest heaving.

"I don't wanna," whined the blond, dipping his head to kiss Grantaire again but his lips met the book cover instead.

"Read!" the curly-haired teen yelled, laughing uncontrollably.

"We do not expec-blahblahblblmmmm…" Enjolras trailed off and met R's lips again. Grantaire let go of the book and grabbed his shoulders. The folds of his jumper bunched up in his hands. Enjolras pushed back Grantaire's leather jacket, the material making a squeaking noise. The beanie was shoved away and thin fingers tangled in dark curls.

Grantaire cupped the blond's face and pulled him off slightly. Enjolras smirked and poked the other's lips with his tongue. R moaned softly, but pushed him off farther. He whined and frowned at him.

"Enjolras," R panted, "I'm all for snogging in my alcove. Trust me, I've dreamt of this."

"Heh heh…"

"Where is this going?" Grantaire asked, letting go of Enjolras and letting their lips crash back together.

"I didn't know this would go so well," he admitted.

"It's not over yet…" answered R. "We go to dinner, too."

"Dinner, too?"

"Yeah."

"Mmmm…"

They kissed again, fingers intertwining with each other. They made out in Grantaire's alcove for at least two hours. On and off between laughing and kissing, a knock on the door shook them back into reality. Enjolras pulled away and sat up on R's hips, his lips kiss swollen. R attempted to fix his hair (to no avail).

"Frédéric?" his Aunt Lily called, knocking.

"Yes, Tia?" he replied, sitting up as well.

"It's getting late," she said. "We're closing up."

Enjolras looked at his watch and gasped. They'd been together since nine to five. He scrambled off of Grantaire and they opened the door, collecting their thing and crawling out. Lily looked them over and cast R a knowing look that made him blush all over again. Grantaire handed her the keys and gave her and his grandmother a hug goodbye before walking Enjolras outside. Their hands were connected, and he hadn't even noticed.

"Dinner?" the blond asked, climbing back on R's bike.

"Yeah, I'm taking you to this underground place. Literally, it's underground."

Before Enjolras could ask, they were riding down the road. Enjolras's hands were tight around his waist, sweat collecting between them. The ride, which only lasted five minutes, felt like eternity. Enjolras liked it. He even allowed himself to lean again Grantaire's back affectionately.

The bike pulled up to an old building, a broken sign reading 'The Basement' pointing to a set of stairs that led to a cellar. They went down and emerged into a dark restaurant that looked somewhere between hipster café and high-class dinner place. The tables had dark blue table cloths and little candles. A waitress seated them at a table near the stage, and brought them ginger ale and breadsticks.

"This place has great Italian food," Grantaire said, biting off the edge of a breadstick.

"And performance?" Enjolras asked, nodding towards the stage.

"Yeah," R answered. "Comedy tonight."

They ordered and ate, the comedy acts having begun when they got their food. Enjolras and R, whose stomach's hurt from laughing so much already, became tense with each joke. A dessert was brought out for them to share, and they'd eaten every last bite. The pair left the restaurant, arms wound around each other. It was dark, and the ride home was a bit scary.

When Enjolras was dropped off, Grantaire walked him to the door. It was one in the morning, and they were both exhausted. Enjolras put his key in the door, but didn't turn the knob. He hesitated, then turned around to face R.

"I had fun," he said, smiling.

"Me too," Grantaire replied.

"Can we… do this again sometime?" he asked.

"Sure… Anytime…"

Enjolras leaned forward and kissed him softly. He scrunched up R's shirt in his fists, and they stayed like that. Their lips formed a smile against one another. Behind them, the door opened and Combeferre stared at them. He raised an eyebrow and chuckled.

Enjolras pulled away from Grantaire with a soft smack. They both chuckled softly and forced themselves to pull away. Enjolras flattened Grantaire's shirt, and he blushed. The blond waved shyly and ran inside, slipping past Combeferre. The other boy nodded goodbye to R, and watched him get on his bike and ride away.

"Fecking morons," mumbled Combeferre.


End file.
